So this is set in the golden trio's 5th year. Guys, this is my first time for doing something like this – I suppose you could say I'm a "Fanfic virgin" – I mean, yes I've dabbled in 'writing' countless of times, but this is my first real attempt. I really, really appreciate feedback; so if you could drop a review in, I'd be about as grateful as Dobby when he receives socks! Thank you very much: A Ronmione one shot, enjoy!
The sun, a golden sphere in the sapphire sky, blazed invitingly through the red-hot windows of Gryffindor tower and even the Whomping Willow stood still, as if basking in the glorious heat. Yet all the 5th years were deprived from this rarity due to extremely important revision; they were to take their owls in a few days time, and so many sat in silence pouring over books and parchments of notes. Some, like Neville, took to the Library to study in order to prevent themselves from becoming distracted by Fred and George Weasley's antics. The few that remained in Gryffindor tower buried their noses in their books within their friendship groups, unless you were Ron Weasley of course.
Ron had been staring out of the window with a wistful expression for quite some time. His hand, still clutching his quill, lay poised over his unfinished potions practice question Hermione had given him, and his untouched books were scattered over his end of the table. At the other end of the table, his best friend Harry Potter had fallen asleep; his glasses askew, his mouth parted slightly. To his right Ron was painfully aware of his other best friend, Hermione Granger, sitting close to him, her eyes whizzing through her Arithmancy notes and occasionally muttering incoherent answers to herself.
In fact, to an onlooker, this situation would have looked perfectly normal. If not normal (Ron wasn't revising) then what was to be expected of them. However, to Ron weasley, it was far from normal; he would have given anything for it to be normal. His throat dry, his palms sweaty, Ron was not looking out of the window at all, but at the blurred reflection of Hermione sitting next to him. He inwardly sighed. Since when had things become so complicated? Ron knew the answer to that very well, actually...
Seeing Hermione at the Yule Bule the previous year - her hair curled elegantly and holding Viktor's hand – Rons' heart had plummeted into his stomach. He didn't realise it at the time, but he was unmistakably jealous. He had told himself it was due to the fact Hermione was like a sister to him...He was looking out for her, wasn't he? But now, sitting in the stifling hot common room with Hermione's arm resting against his, he realised it was far more than that. He didn't want to admit it to himself, but deep down he knew.
But then, of course, he had been delighted at the feel of her lips pressed against his cheek, wishing him luck for Quidditch. That in itself had only reinforced his feelings. Even now, Ron could feel the tips of his ears reddening at the very thought. Suppressing a grin, he glanced back down to his revision. After about 2 minutes of writin, however, Ron found his eyes drift restlessly to the reflection again. Biting her lip with concentration (Ron began to feel butterflies in the pit of his stomach) Hermione reached up and carelessly brushed away a loose strand from her eyes, of which – Ron couldn't help noticing – were delicately framed with long, black eyelashes.
The truth was, Ron was just happy to observe her. For now, he was happy to just sit with her in a comfortable silence, occasionally diverting his attention back to his revision. Yet the revision part of the process was short lived. He allowed his thoughts to wander – mostly featuring Hermione arguing with Viktor, and himself coming to the rescue – and cherished the feel of her sitting so close to him. Hermione shifted in her seat and her leg brushed against his. Ears reddening once more, he grinned, unable to hide it any longer. Oh, how he loved revising...